Hermione Granger and the Cookie Jar
by FandaticForeverAndAlways
Summary: The first time Hermione's parents remain oblivious that their daughter is something more than just human.


**Disclaimer: JKR owns everything, except my plot bunnies. XD**

**Written for Movie Quote Boot Camp**

**Prompt2: ****Made it, Ma! Top of the world**

**Written for Head Canon Boot Camp**

**Prompt14: ****Muggles**

**Written for The Greenhouses Competition**

**Prompt: ** **Write a character as a child (between the ages of three and ten).**

**Written for Opposite Day Challenge**

**Prompt: ****Write something involving humor. **

_**Oblivious**_

**Summary: The first time Hermione's parents remain oblivious that their daughter is something more than just human. **

**Hermione Granger and the Cookie Jar**

Mark Granger and Jean Granger were well-known dentists of their area. They were hardworking, friendly, and extremely kind-hearted people. Their morning hours were spent at their clinic, and evenings were spent at the free clinic adjoined to their city's hospital. Yes, they were quite busy in their bubble. But, they were good parents too. They made sure that their three year old daughter, Hermione never felt left out. And that either of them would be with her most of the time (excluding the day care hours), and sometimes, they even brought her to their work.

Hermione was a very different child of course. When Jean had been pregnant with her, she and Mark had read as many baby books as possible to make sure that they were ready for their baby girl. But no matter how much they had read, the real experience was quite different. Once Hermione was born, after the first few days, both of them were very sure that their daughter was a special one.

She seemed quite advanced for her age, she hardly ever cried, she slept well, she didn't refuse her food, and unlike most kids – who loved everything shiny and bright – Hermione was the exact opposite. She despised the pictorially represented books and anything attractive. In fact, when she was an eight month old baby, Mark had found her placing her tiny palms on one of his oldest medical journals. He had hurried to her thinking that she would tear the old pages off in disgust, but once he had reached her, and taken the book from her grasp, she had started to cry. Only after he returned her his journal did his daughter keep quiet.

It was then Mark realized that his daughter would be a reader, and quite an avid one. Even before she had uttered her first word, she had shown interest in a thick, fat, and old book. Hermione, despite being different than the other infants, had had her moments. Her parents loved and adored her. She was their pride and their little miracle.

It was one rare Sunday evening when the whole family was gathered together. Mark was watching the evening news, while Jean sat on his left, knitting a sweater for her daughter. Hermione was on the floor, enjoying a jigsaw puzzle. Both the parents kept an eye on her none the less. Mark was complaining about the sudden turn in the weather, and Jean was nodding along while commenting here and there.

"Momma?" Hermione's voice broke Mark's rant. She was at her mother's leg, holding Jean's trousers.

"Yes, darling," Jean answered as Mark picked Hermione up and placed her on his lap.

"I wan' cookie," Hermione said meekly.

"Didn't you just have some candy?" Mark asked her daughter, his eyes twinkling. Apart from books, Hermione seemed to have a little bit of sweet tooth.

"Yep. I wan' cookie now," she replied, a little stubbornly. Mark and Jean exchanged a look; there was a slight demand in her tone. Even though she was just three, they didn't want their daughter to grow up to be demanding.

"Sweetheart, not now, okay? A little later, you just have to be good girl," Jean told her gently, while Mark tickled Hermione making her giggle.

"Oki," Hermione agreed, distracted by her father's tickling.

"Let's watch something now, shall we?" Mark said and changed the news to a cartoon channel. Hermione had very little patience, but watching the Muppets was something she could tolerate.

After watching it for a while, Jean headed to lay out dinner. Hermione didn't ask for cookies again, but Jean noticed her longing look at the cookie jar on top of the refrigerator. Mark and Jean were glad of course, both of them were strict dentists, and hence, didn't want their only daughter ending up with cavities. The dinner was soon done, the family sat by the fireplace, enjoying the warmth as Mark read a Wordsworth's poetry, as Hermione listened to it raptly. Jean continued with her knitting, listening to her husband's soothing voice.

Mark had read poem after poem, when finally Hermione began to yawn. Both the parents saw it as a cue to head up to bed. They carried Hermione upstairs, and made her brush her teeth using her soft brush. Before Jean could change her into her pajamas, their baby girl was yawning repeatedly. Mark and Jean managed to change her, and gently placed her in her bed. They watched their daughter as she snuggled up, pulling her blanket close around her tiny body.

"Goodnight darling," they whispered, each placing a kiss on her temple.

She mumbled back something incoherent, which her parents took it as a reply.

"She's so beautiful," Jean whispered, running her fingers through her daughter's bushy hair.

"She is," Mark agreed, smiling fatherly.

They stayed by their daughter's bed for few more moments, watching her sleep, "We should get some sleep too," Jean finally whispered.

"Yeah, let's go," Mark replied and the couple headed to their bedroom.

Changing into their nightclothes, Mark and Jean soon headed to the bed. Setting an alarm to wake up for the next morning, Jean switched of their bedroom lights and swiftly fell asleep.

_BAM! _

Jean woke up with a startle, she quickly glanced at the clock – the screen flashed bright green, '03:00 AM' She rubbed her eyes, unsure whether it was a dream which had woken her up or had she really heard something? She looked at her husband; he was lying on his front, sleeping soundly.

She jumped as she heard a soft thud. Again, she wasn't really sure if it _was _real.

"Mark?" she said groggily.

"Hmm…" Came her husband's muffled reply.

"Mark, wake up!" She shook him hard.

"_Who-what_?" Mark turned and sat up, looking disoriented.

"I heard something from downstairs," she whispered.

"Oh Jean, I bet it was nothing. Go back to sleep," he told her, turning back to the bed.

"But what if it isn't?" she repeated stubbornly.

"I think it was just a dream –"

"_No_! I heard it after I woke up too!"

Mark rubbed his eyes; he was in no mood to argue with his wife. "What do you want me to do?" he finally asked.

"We can go down and just check once."

Mark sighed in reply, but put on his glasses and robe. "Leave your slippers, we don't want to make too much noise," Jean told him.

He rolled his eyes at his wife's sudden interest in investigation. He was pretty sure she had confused herself between a dream and reality. Despite wanting to go back to bed, he decided to humor her. He had seen and knew how Jean could get when she set her mind to anything.

"Here, take this." She handed his something once they were out.

"A _cricket_ bat?" Mark asked incredulously, looking at the object his wife had handed it to him.

"Of course, what if you have to beat him up?" she shrugged.

Before heading down, he looked into their daughter's bedroom. From the dim light in the corridor, they could see a huddle of blankets. "Hermione's okay!" Jean exclaimed, he could hear the relief in her tone, and he knew he mirrored the same feeling.

"Good." He mumbled, and headed down the stairs making as little noise as possible. He had to admit it though, despite thinking that it was a fluke, he couldn't help but feel a little badass. With cricket bat in his hand, his wife behind him, and both of them about to confront a non-existent burglar. He would have chuckled out loud if his wife's fingers hadn't been grasping his shoulder very _firmly._

Once they reached the ground floor, it was pretty obvious to them – the light in the kitchen was turned on. And they could hear muffled sounds. "I told you!" Jean whispered in his ear. Mark swallowed hoping that it wasn't more than one person. Despite adrenaline running through him _and_ his trusty cricket bat, he wasn't sure whether he would be able to handle more than one person. He assumed it was just some hungry kid, going through their supplies. He did feel a little nervous though, he had after all read about too many food-hunting incidents gone wrong – he didn't want to leave his baby girl fatherless and wife as a widow.

While it was serious thoughts that were running through Mark's head, Jean was completely different. She was focused on finding the burglar, and having him pinned down onto the floor, unconscious even (due to the hit on the head of course.) Between them, Mark was always the practical one, Jean sometimes preferred to live vivaciously through her active imagination.

"What do we do?" Jean whispered. _She sounds too excited_, Mark noted.

He honestly wanted to just go back upstairs, and call the police and lock his family up in their room. But seeing his wife look at him so expectantly – as if he was some hero and not a regular dentist stopped his obvious reply. He wanted to prove to her that he could do anything – fight anyone! It was one of those moments where you just _have_ to prove that you are the man.

"Go bust that little idiot of course! No one messes with the Grangers," he whispered back to her.

"Be careful," Jean breathed in his ear and placed a soft kiss on his cheeks.

"You too." He squeezed her hand. Both of them started to walk cautiously toward the kitchen, Mark gripped the bat tighter in his hands and Jean pulled out a nearest vase. She was extremely proud of Mark; she wanted to pull him into a passionate and intense kiss. He was so _brave. _But she also knew that it wasn't the right moment. Maybe after everything was done, she could give him his gift.

As they continued to walk toward the kitchen, she felt a little glad – it was going to take place in her kitchen, she was the queen there. She knew where she kept all of her spices and knives. Having done medical school, they knew how to use their knives.

"OK, here we go," Mark muttered under his breath as they closed the distance between them and the kitchen.

Raising the bat in his hand, Mark jumped into the kitchen ready to assault the stranger. "HA!" he shouted, bringing down his bat on – on _no one_.

"_Oh my goodness!_" He heard Jean exclaim, he turned around, still holding his weapon, thinking that somehow the burglar had gotten around him to his wife. He sighed in relief when he noticed that no one had her held by her throat, a knife pointing at her neck. She stood there alone, the vase still in her hand. Her expression was something else altogether – her eyes wide in shock and lips set almost in amusement.

"Wha-at-" He started to ask when his wife burst into laughter.

His eyes followed her gaze, and his mouth dropped open in shock.

"_Hermione?_"

Their beautiful daughter, dressed in her pajamas was sitting on top of the refrigerator. Her tiny legs were dangling over the other side of it, with a can of chocolate chipped cookies by her side. Both her hands held cookies, and her pajama top and her face were completely covered with smears of chocolate. She watched both her parents indifferently, as if eating cookies in the middle of the night, on top of the refrigerator was the most casual thing ever.

Mark started to laugh too. He dropped the bat in his arm, and rushed to bring their daughter back to the ground. "WAIT!" Jean shouted.

"What?"

"We _have_ to click a picture!" she laughed and ran out of the kitchen to get their camera.

Mark shook his head and started to laugh again. Making sure that Hermione wasn't in immediate danger, he looked around searching for the instrument little Hermione had used to climb up so high. But the only thing he found was a couple of wooden boxes on the floor. And they weren't so huge that Hermione could use them to climb up. His eyes narrowed as he once more searched the kitchen for the means his daughter had used.

"Sweetheart, how did you get up so high?" He wondered. Hermione just smiled at him eating her cookies.

"Oh! I couldn't find the old darn thing," Jean rushed back in holding their camera in her hand. "Give Mommy a huge smile sweetie," she coaxed as she clicked picture after picture.

"Perfect!" she announced, and Mark got his baby girl. "How did you get up so high, darling?" he asked her again, holding her in his arms.

"Sleepy…" Hermione mumbled and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Of course you are," Jean laughed as she cleaned the left over crumbs from Hermione's clothes. "We have to get your teeth brushed again though, you can sleep after _that_."

"Oki," Hermione agreed, sucking on her still slightly chocolaty fingers.

Mark carried their daughter upstairs again, and they cleaned her up for the second time. She swiftly brushed her teeth, yawning throughout, and when she was put into her bed, she fell asleep soon, once more. Kissing her goodnight again, they headed back to their bedroom.

"Well, that was quite an adventure." Jean laughed.

"Of course, I'm glad the cricket bat and the vase were _so_ helpful," Mark joked.

"Oh stop it! I didn't know it was our daughter who was raiding our food."

"Yes, yes," he agreed and laughed along with her.

When they were back in their bed, Mark said wonderingly, "Jean? How do you think she got up there?"

"Oh Mark, she must have climbed up something. Thank god she didn't hurt herself!" Jean shuddered at the thought of Hermione being hurt.

"Well, yes… But I don't see how – there was nothing to climb onto –"

"Darling, it's late… go back to sleep," Jean said, yawning.

"But – it didn't look _possible_!"

"Mark… maybe she flew, that's the explanation, alright?" Jean mumbled sleepily.

"That's not an explanation, it's stupid." Mark argued.

"Sure," she muttered. Mark turned to her, her eyes were closed and her breathing had slowed already.

"Oh well," he mumbled to himself and tried to get comfortable.

"_Flying!_" was the last word he grumbled as he glared at the ceiling trying to come up with an explanation.

Poor Mark! That was the first thing that their daughter had done to which he had no explanation, and little did he know, it would continue to be so. It was _of course_ by flying how Hermione had reached the top of the refrigerator, but at that moment, though it had happened that way, it was simply too preposterous and impossible for Mark to accept.

Oh the hardships of having a witch as their daughter in their muggle family!

It was going to be a very long ride… The magic had just begun after all.

**AN: So, my challenge was to write something involving humor, and I don't really know how funny it got, but hey, it's not angsty. :P **

**I had fun writing this; it was cute to imagine a baby Hermione. I hope you liked it too. **

**I would love to know if it tickled your humor, leave me some words. =)**


End file.
